Thank you for your thoughtful account of the details. While you were writing to
me, I was listening to a 1968 Fischer-Dieskau rendition of Die schöne Müllerin.
I was surprised that I found it a bit expressionistic and less mature than I
had expected.

Since Mommy died I have been meditating even more about my relationship to
my family, now including the dog that has become part of it. The great need is 
not, I think, to be loved, but to love, a need which whether reciprocated or
not, one may satisfy to the limit of one strength and to gthe satisfaction of
which geographic separation is not necessarily an obstacle. 
On January 17, 1950, when in a fit of depression I suggested to her that she 
might want to abandon our relationship, Mommy replied:

"I do not really know what you have given me, but I do know that I have 
something, still very small and weak, which I had not before and which is very 
beautiful. It helps me transcend the hurt and to make me wish, not to turn in 
and protect the hurt, but to take care of you and love you more."

The envelope with the correspondence of 8 years ago concerning the spiral
stairs is on my desk. Tomorrow morning I will refresh my memory and then
discuss with you whether you or I should manage the negotiations.

Good night. I hope you sleep well.